


I know you, but do you remember me? (I hope so)

by PandaRum



Series: Wolves always get what they want [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Semi-Public Sex, not really old ... but like 10 years? Maybe more?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaRum/pseuds/PandaRum
Summary: It's been years, but there's no mistaking who this man is. Yet it doesn't stop Arya from making the best decision of her life.





	I know you, but do you remember me? (I hope so)

**Author's Note:**

> I will have many terrible grammer mistakes on here... sorry but if someone wants to beta just let me know!

She sees him in the corner end of the bar, behind clouds of thick smoke and sweating bodies. It's hard to tell if it's really him, sitting slouched at a two man table, lonely, as he warms a bottle of beer. But there's no doubt after a moment that it's him. 

It's been years since she's seen the boy that use to be her brother best friend and when she remembers him Arya thinks of dark hair that curls about the nap of his neck, the sea colored eyes, and that smirk. Back then she hadn't liked him much-if only because Jon couldn't stand the other boy. Now as she looks at him he's noticeable different. Hair much shorter then it use to be in his youth and lighter in color, he looks older but then again he's a man now, no longer the boy that use to call her short stack as a kid. It looks good on him though, the maturity that she's seeing, and it makes her hand twitch when his eyes look up, meeting hers from across the room through the thickness of dull lighting and crowds of people. A shiver crawls up her spine when he gives her that smirk, the same one he use to give all the girls back in his day. He knows she was watching him… it's all the encouragement she needs and Arya shoots back the shot in front of her, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of the jacket. 

She doesn't think how childish it must have looked but it seemed like he didn't mind, not when he sits up straighter as she comes closer, not when he drinks the last of his beer and waits with heated eyes for her. There's a burning in her groin that she hasn't felt since Gendry and it makes her excited and nervous and Arya wished she had a drink in her hand. As if reading her thoughts, he orders a beer for the both of them, smirk getting bigger as she hops up on the opposite chair. 

“Hey,” she doesn't exactly hear it, not with the music they're playing but she sees it with the movement of his lips and she licks her mouth, wanting nothing more then to taste him. 

“Want to get out of here?” 

“Sure,” he doesn't tease her about how forward that was but he looks pleased and that in turn makes her very giddy. Tonight was going to be amazing.

Arya isn't wrong either and she'll admit that she's wrong about a lot of things, makes so many mistakes and quite frankly doesn't learn from any of her choices. But she hoped more then anything she wouldn't be wrong and she isn't. 

His lips are everything she could imagine, soft and hot and so good against hers, all heat and wet and she groans, running her hand down his chest to press the palm of her hand against his groin. The noise he makes just makes her wetter, both in her pants and her mouth and she opens wide for his attacks. They don't fuck in a proper bed or even in his apartment. They're too hot, too clouded with lust to think clearly, and it isn't long before they shove away at their pants, damning any consequences and he parts her legs (a difficult defeat when her jeans are so very tight) and sinks his thickness into her heat. She gasps into his tshirt, hands balling as he fucks her so good against the wall leading upstairs to his place. 

It's so hard to think when he makes her so wet they can hear the sounds of their body sliding against each other and Arya archs her back, toes completely off the ground as he holds her up, never leaving her body as he tries to burry more of himself within. It's not easy, not with the posistion they're in, not with her jeans being a barrier between them. 

“I'm tearing these damn pants off once we get inside,” he hissed into her ear, grabbing the bottom of her butt to lift her high into his thrusts and all Arya can do is whimper, wanting nothing more for him to make do with his promise. 

They fuck three more times that night. Once in his apartment, Arya bent over his sofa, then again in his bed, her legs pushed against her chest by his strong shoulders, and the third time it was so earlier in the morning, she was still half asleep when he slides into her. Eyes closed as he gives her lazy thrusts and all Arya can do is whimper and moan so softly, so tired and blissed out as he rubs at her clit. She comes before him, hissing as he gives a few hard shoves before wrapping a strong arm around her middle and falling straight back to sleep. 

The next morning was just as wonderful as the night before. Arya wakes up alone and as she reaches out to the empty space next to her she can feel the heat still there. He must have just gotten up. Grinning Arya sits up, hissing at the ache in her body, a feeling she hasn't had in forever and she hopes that maybe she can get another quicky out of him before she has to leave. Getting out of bed, she slides into her panties he must have brought to the room, the rest of her clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser. 

Deciding to forgo the rest of her clothing Arya walked out of the room, full in confidence bare chested, she leans against the side of wall as she watched the man she spent the night with move around the kitchen with ease, stove on, the air smelling of bacon and blueberries. It makes her suddenly feel self conscious, simply for the fact that she's come out for the intent of a booty call and he's making them breakfast. Quietly as she can Arya steps back, only she doesn't check to see what was behind her and smacks into the coffee table. 

“Fuck!” She sneered rubbing the back of her ankle. 

“You ok?” She glances up to find him amused, spatula in hand. 

“I was trying to be sneaky.” There's no point in lying, expacally considering she was never good at it. 

“You were trying to be sneaky?... naked?” He finds this so funny, and she blushes bright. “Not that it isn't a bad picture. In fact,” he steps in close, “you look good like that.”

She doesn't stop him (nor does she want to) when he cups one of her breasts in his hand, rubs the hard nipple with the pad of his thumb and she moans. “I was hoping for a little fun before I had to leave.” 

The smirk on his face drops. 

“I have to have brunch with my sister,” she explains quickly. 

Arya feels annoyed that she feels like she owes him an explanation. Never had she felt like she needed to explain herself to a quick fuck… but then he wasn't that was he? No. They had spent one amazing night and Arya wants nothing more to crawl back into bed and ride him so bad she can feel the slick between her legs. It doesn't help that she wants him to feed her bacon and watch syfy movies on his tv. She blushes again at how stupidly attached she had become. 

His eyes darken when her chest glows red with embarrassment, thumb going back to playing with her nipple. “Can you just stay and have breakfast with me?” His voice sounds so husky in her ear that Arya arches her chest into his hand and moans. “Just for a little? ..Please Arya?” He growls into her ear and Arya’s thighs twitch.

“Yeah, ok, Greyjoy. I'll stay but only for breakfast.”

Her lie falls flat to her own ears and by Theon’s bright smile he hadn't believe her either.


End file.
